


Together We Stand, Alone We Fall

by TheAzureFox



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: F/M, Slight Surrealism, Spoilers, Unreliable Narrator, alternative title is: I am mean to Ema, both fluffy and angsty, explores Ema's and Akira's past relationship, hireshipping, suffering ahead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureFox/pseuds/TheAzureFox
Summary: She breathes in snowflakes, tastes them on her lips and tongue, tastes the stardust of winter in her mouth and-Ema relives the past.(AkiraxEma, hireshipping)





	Together We Stand, Alone We Fall

**Author's Note:**

> *slides in yet again nearing the deadline and wonders why she does this to herself every goddamn week* 
> 
> Hello, back again with another VRAINS one-a-week fanfic! This one centers around EmaxAkira and speculations regarding their past. Probably 100% not canon compliant but technically, until canon tells me otherwise, I'm not wrong either >:P (watch, my ideas are completely wrong which is honestly what I expect at this point)
> 
> I uh also might've got a little emotional w/ this which is rare for me w/ my own writings so I don't know how much of an emotional wreck this is but??? have fun with it regardless???
> 
> Also, this's not beta-read yet but I need to get around to fixing my other fics sometime soon so I'm gonna try to fix any errors this has after I get over the initial cringe factor of writing this (I'm cringy w/ all my works, actually, especially after I first post them). 
> 
> EDIT: fixed most of my errors and reworded things to make things clearer

A touch of cold.

A winter chill.

Ema pauses in the midst of the city park. Wind brushes her hair in her face and she breathes, cupping her hands over her mouth to capture the warm air that escapes. She looks up into the darkness of the night, into the darkness of the sky and huddles closer to the light a nearby streetlamp provides. Dark gray clouds of wool curl overhead, obscuring the moon and the stars and, ultimately, she thinks it’s the perfect sight to reflect her wounded heart.

She breathes in snowflakes, tastes them on her lips and tongue, tastes the stardust of winter in her mouth and-

~~~

They’re in middle school when they first meet, wide-eyed and curious and at the ripe age where they think they know it all. Ema is a proclaimed smarty-pants, a self-taught expert who aces all things their school tosses at her with straight A’s and an intelligence that surpasses the expectations of her age group. Akira is her rival, a boy who is just as smart as her and perhaps her equal in everything they do. The teachers can hardly keep up with them, churning out lecture after lecture until ultimately they exhaust all possibilities and move them up several grades past their age group’s limit.

Of course, doing this has cultivated a kind of competition between her and Akira. Being the only ones of their class who can be on each other’s level, they’ve created a kind of silent code in which one most one-up the other. Forever and ever, Ema remembers cracking open books, pouring page after page and scribbling note after note until she finally won a victory over her faithful rival. Of course, Akira won’t let an upset in his reputation go without some form of retaliation. The moment she takes the lead, he appears with something better, something _shinier_ and she’s left pouting as he earns all the praise the teachers had been giving _her_.

One day, she gets sick of it. She gets sick of the cycle of being better and _betterer_ and finally decides to end it. She approaches him one early morning, back when recess was a thing and there was always a playground available to play on, and she sticks out her hand.

Akira looks up from the book he is read, nose wrinkled in mock disgust but eyebrows speaking of his confusion. He looks between her and her hand and then shuts his book close, taking her hand and squeezing it.

She squeaks in surprise, having expected a question or some form of insult and _not just him blatantly accepting her truce to war without even knowing what she’s asking for._ She stares at him, stunned into silence and Akira merely frowns up at her.

“Uh…what am I shaking your hand for, exactly?”

There’s a pause and then she flat-out gapes at him. “You just…shook my hand…because you felt like it?”

Her rival shrugs and then gives her a soft smile. “You seemed serious and determined about it, whatever it was. I couldn’t help it,” he peers at her face, “why, what were you going to ask for?”

“A truce.”

“A…truce?”

“I’m tired of trying to beat you all the time,” the girl says. “So let’s stop this competition. We’re going to become friends now.”

He contemplates her hand for a second, purple eyes scanning over her silver-painted nails and the wrinkles of her fingers. His gaze is sharp and keen, pouring over her and yet reading every single aspect of her existence. The blue-haired boy grins and tightens his grip.

“I like the sound of that.”

~~~

Ever since, Akira and her have become inseparable. Everywhere he goes, she goes, and everywhere she goes, he goes too. It’s gotten to the point their parents are always worried and fussing over them by the time they come home late, grass in their hair and dirt on their clothes. If they’re not at school then they’re at the playground and if they’re not there then they’re at the mall shopping or at the local restaurant eating.

One day, however, they find themselves in the park. It’s summer and they’re fresh out of school when they meet Kusanagi Shoichi. The dark-haired boy is with his younger brother, holding the swings hostage as they approach. The swings are the pride of the park and anyone who claims them under their name has the dominance of the park. Normally, this would mean Ema and Akira. The both of them have tricked more kids than they can count away from the shiny chains and metal seats. They’ve always devised ways to inherit the swings and they’ve never once failed to capture them under their control.

Except, this time, they fail. Shoichi is a sly boy, cunning and ruthless and he refuses to give an inch, swinging higher and higher as they try to court him from the swings. His brother, though infinitely shier and perhaps less ambitious then his brother, swings beside him without a care in the world. He is as hard to convince as Shoichi is and it isn’t long before Ema’s stomping her feet in frustration and Akira’s already making vague insults at the pair of boys. However, when Shoichi’s brother points out the cards in Ema’s pockets and pulls out a deck of his own, they finally reach an agreement: they’ll duel for the rights to the swings.

Within minutes, they have an instant crowd, boys and girls circling around them and placing bets on the victor. Ema’s Altergeists have wooed over a fair share of her audience while her opponent’s looks have garnered him quite a bit of ogling. They fight and clash, monsters going back and forth and Ema’s almost surprised at how well Shoichi’s brother can hold his own. The kid is a natural, gaze moving back and forth, spells slapping down onto their placemat and traps being activated at every turn.

Her Altergeists fight back with savage strength. Her cards, her deck, her monsters…they are her pride and joy and it shows. She battles with skill and her rival reciprocates with equal talent. However, as good as Shoichi’s little brother is, he is also easily distracted. Silver eyes peek up at the boy standing beside Akira, gleaming with the need for praise. Shoichi is stoic, careful and wary but also very emotionless. He stands with arms crossed, gaze swiping across the battlefield. There’s a frown on his face and, in a way, he looks very reminiscent of Akira. The blue-haired boy sprouts a similar expression, rubbing his chin as he peers at Ema’s hand and then stares at her opponent. He’s as unreadable as Shoichi is but she can tell that he’s already thinking of all the ways she can possibly win.

Finally, Shoichi’s brother activates a trap and Ema finds herself floored as they settle in a tie. The crowd around them mutters and whines, begging for a rematch at the unexpected outcome. However, Shoichi declares their grudge over with, hoisting his brother up and announcing a ceasefire in the form of their father’s curfew. They disappear and Ema is back at Akira’s side, gears whirling in her head.

They look at each other and reach a silent agreement.

“Let’s tag duel.”

~~~~

The next day, they find Shoichi and his brother back in the swings, carefree and happy and about to be pummeled to the ground. This time, Shoichi has his deck on him and is more than willing to accept a tag duel. They set up their placemats, garner up a crowd of followers, and then begin their duel.

From there, it’s an exchange of blows and traps. Spells make their debut and then they leave the field. Monsters come and go, resurrecting from the graveyard only to be sent back again. On occasion, one of them finds themselves in a bind and it takes the quick thinking of an ally to save their partner from fatal damage. Their lifepoints become whittled little by little and by the time they reach the “in-danger” state, their decks are almost all exhausted and their audience is biting their nails with anticipation. All their ace monsters are out and on the fields – the final showdown between two brothers and two friends ends with that in mind. Ema makes a move, Akira follows and, unbeknownst to them, they are caged within Shoichi’s trap. In one brutal move, their aces are destroyed and they are hurtled to the shadow realm in a sheer instance of pure brilliance.

Those who took the side of the brothers cheer, blasting into an uproar. Ema’s and Akira’s fans slump, pouting at the loss of their champions. Ema herself is internally smarting, glaring at the boys across from her with frustration. Akira, a sore loser himself, grits his teeth and clamps his hands into fists.

At first, Ema expects Shoichi to gloat. The boy is evidently prideful, chest puffed out and an arm joyfully placed around his brother. However, much to her surprise, he offers both Akira and Shoichi an offer of gratitude. He holds out both his hands to them, smiling at their confusion.

“Thanks for the duel,” he says. “It was really fun – I enjoyed it.”

His brother nods hastily, scrambling to his side with his cards tucked into the hands pressed against his chest. “It was good,” the boy adds with a bashful smile.

Ema looks at Akira and he looks back with hesitance. There’s a moment in which their eyes communicate everything for them and then they take Shoichi’s gesture with nods of agreement.

“I was impressed by your dueling skills, Shoichi,” Akira says as he stands to his feet, sliding his deck into his front pocket.

Ema jumps up and to her feet, dusting herself off. “You aren’t an ordinary duelist,” she agrees. “Are you a pro or something?”

“I wish,” Shoichi pats his brother’s head. “I’ve wanted to enter in competitions before but my dad won’t let me. He’s super controlling ever since mom passed away. Speaking of which…I think he wants us back soon. We better get going, little brother.”

The boy beside Shoichi holds up an arm and cries out in agreement. Shoichi’s gaze softens and he grabs his brother’s hand, walking off side-by-side into the distance. Ema watches them before turning to Akira and pointing to the swing-set. “Wanna try it out for a bit?”

He shakes his head. “It’d feel weird, especially after they won and all,” was his excuse.

“Oh. Want to try a rematch tomorrow?”

His fingers flick over the many cards in his deck. “Sure, if they’re up to it,” a sudden fire alights in his eyes and Ema almost giggles as his fighting spirit flares, “then I’ll beat them before they can even say the word ‘link’.”

“I’ll beat them first,” she tells him. “Just watch me.”

“Oh,” he looks at her and grins, “I’ll watch alright! We’ll beat them! Together!”

~~~

The next day, Shoichi and his brother don’t appear. The day after that, they fail to manifest and by the time they reach the third day Ema’s given up all hope entirely.

“Do you think they moved away?” she asks Akira as a clear night sky sleeps on overhead.

“Maybe.”

“Do you think they got banned from the park?”

“Maybe.”

“Did they give up on the swings entirely?”

“Maybe.”

“Did they-“

Akira looks at her. “Ema, give it a rest. They’re not coming back.”

She pouts and intertwines her hand with his, squeezing. He squeezes back, staring at a set of swings that clatter emptily in the wind. Ema bites her lip and wonders about Shoichi and his disappearance.

She wonders about them a lot, honestly.

~~~

In high school, Ema’s and Akira’s relationship becomes strained. Of course, it becomes strained for all sorts of reasons but the first reason that she can remember is because of the rumors.

Ever since high school came around, Ema’s heard more and more about it. She’s heard the whispers, caught the wisps of implications that run up and down. Akira’s made a name for himself, becoming student president and a notorious soccer player with the potential for scholarships from all around. Of course, becoming famous within the school grounds also comes with the potential for gossip. Ema’s not exempt from them and, often, she finds herself to be the brunt of them.

 _Slut, whore, vixen…_ the names go on and on without end. Even as she stays by Akira’s side, even as she smiles and talks and laughs, she can feel the eyes of her peers digging into the. She can taste their hatred, can see the way they press close and whisper of things that only she can hear. Akira is oblivious to it all, oblivious to the way she squirms or the way she stiffens when she catches the eye of someone spiteful. Never mind the fact that she’s been friends with Akira since childhood. Never mind the fact that Akira obviously enjoys her presence, that she’s not coercing him or seducing him or anything else like what the rumors say.

One day, when the weight becomes way too much to bare, she distances herself from Akira. She cuts off his sentences, flees when she sees him in the hallways, and hides herself from his presence. Ema knows she shouldn’t let gossip get to her but she can’t help it. It digs inside her, worming its way inside her until she is ultimately choking on the gag her peers have placed upon her mouth.

Finally, when she’s given up on Akira entirely, she succumbs to their special spot in the park – the hidden and abandoned gazebo nestled away in the depths of the park’s woods. Long ago, it had been a project meant to preserve the beauty of the park. As it was now, it was a useless artifact of a time long gone and a reflection of the way she felt about her relationship with Akira. She was a burden, an eyesore to his reputation and thus a figment of his past.

They were in high school, of course they would move on. He’d become famous and great and magnificent and she’d become the side-piece to his tapestry, the tiny bush in the corner of a magnificent forest painting. She expected this, honestly, but she can’t stop her eyes from burning or her fingers from digging into the ground until all she feels is dirt pushing upwards.

“Ema?”

She startles at the sound of her own name, scrambling to her feet and pressing herself against a marble pillar.

“Ema!”

She shrinks back as blue hair and purple eyes catch sight of her, a deer-in-headlights as he runs towards her. She’s screaming at herself to run but she can’t, not in front of him.

“Ema,” he pauses in front of her, breathing hard. Sweat glistens on his skin and she wonders for how long he’s been running. “Ema, where did you go? Why have you been avoiding me? What’s wrong?”

She tosses her gaze away, refusing to answer.

“What’s wrong?” he repeats, eyes sweeping over her. He’s trying to calculate a reason for her behavior, formulating a hypothesis and any evidence he can grasp to support it. “Did I do something? Did I say anything? Is it something about me? How can I fix it, what can I do to make it up to you?”

“There’s nothing you can do to stop this. If anything, you’ll only make it worse.”

“I won’t make it worse. I’ll do anything to make it better. Just, Ema, tell me what’s wrong so I can _help_ you.”

She gives him a sharp gaze, digging up the best insult she can find. “ _You’re_ the problem, Akira. You shouldn’t have come all this way just to find me, I’m perfectly okay. It’s you you should worry about.”

He’s aghast at her accusation, eyebrows furrowing and jaw dropping just the slightest bit. “I was _worried sick_ about you, Ema,” he says and he sounds more hurt than anything else. “Come on, you aren’t acting like yourself – you’ve been avoiding me all week. What’s wrong?”

The girl winces at his anxious tone, noting the way his voice fluctuates with subtle panic. He’s trembling with exhaustion but, no, it’s not just that. He’s shaking with apprehension, eyes shining and lips nearly quavering as his hands hover in the air above her shoulders.

“You might as well forget me,” she spits back, hiding back her guilt with a hiss. “Or people are just going to talk bad about you too.”

He pulls away and blinks, staring for a long, long time. Then, he draws in a deep breath, closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He laughs and sweeps her into a hug, tightening his arms around her and she watches him with the beginnings of concern. “Akira…?”

His laughter subsides and he rests his chin on her shoulder, lips close to her ears. “Is that what you got all upset about?” he asks. “You, of all people, upset over some _gossip?_ ”

“So you’ve heard the rumors then.”

“I have,” he whispers. “I’ve tried to put a stop to them but I…well, I guess I’ve made them worse. Especially if you think the best way to deal with them is to run away from me.”

“I wasn’t running away,” she retorts.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on hers’. She pauses, startled, and looks up at purple eyes, studying him with anticipation. His lips part and a coil of air escapes, unraveling upwards. Ema watches as he stares, unsure and uncertain but unwilling to escape from the intense gaze he gives her. Unconsciously, she wets her lips, drawing them in and running her tongue across their surface. _Is it possible he’s going to…?_

Akira Zaizen presses his forehead against hers’ and closes his eyes, smiling to himself. “Yes you were, you silly girl,” his lips brush into her bangs and she can feel her face going red. “They got to your head, didn’t you, what everyone was saying? But they’re wrong. You are _none_ of those things to me. You’re just Ema, Ema.

“You’re my friend not a whore or anything else like what they may think. Jealousy gets to the head and I think it’s gotten to yours too. Just…in a different way.”

She’s too embarrassed to say anything. He can see straight through her, can read her like the books he constantly sticks his nose into. Akira merely shakes his head at his silence and pulls back, grabbing her hands as he does so and dragging her with him. He does a bow before her and she does an impromptu curtsy before him, regaining her calm under the light of the moon.

He spins her around and she follows his lead, whirling with her clothes flaring. Her skirt billows around her and she laughs as a breeze curls past her. Akira smiles and guides her in a circle, twirling and joining in with a polite chuckle.

They dance and dance, feet tiptoeing around the other to the cue of invisible music. Ema steps as gracefully as she can muster, picturing herself as a swan as she spreads invisible wings to greet her partner. Akira, the “prince” of this story, invites her – the swan princess – closer. His fingers brush under her chin and he tilts it up for just the slightest hint of a second.

“You’re very pretty tonight,” he whispers.

He doesn’t even have the decency to keep from laughing as her entire face turns tomato ripe. She sulks under his gloating but he keeps her smiling with a display grandeur, picking up her hand and kissing the back of her hands with gentle lips.

The swan princess unfurls, feathers cloaking her figure until she is not a bird but a girl in a feather dress. Moonlight glitters upon her and her prince is in awe, beholding her like he might a deity. Stars shine in his eyes and so do they in hers, twinkling like the white balls in the sky and forever they are dancing underneath its majesty.

~~~~

Bliss.

She’s in pure bliss.

She feels like everything good. She’s cotton candy and smiles and kittens and she embraces it, loving herself and the man before her. For now, for today, she is all sweetness and grace, beauty and infatuation and the angel of heaven herself.

And, one day, she’ll be nothing but toxin and venom.

~~~

The second strain in their relationship is actually rather unexpected and not quite a strain as much as it is a _catalyst_.

One day, Akira invites her over to his house.

She’s on a stroll with Akira, grabbing a seat near an ice cream parlor with a cup of sundae in front of her and a blueberry cream soda in front of Akira. They are frequent visitors to this particular parlor and yet it still comes to their surprise when the implications about them run rampant.

“How _cute_ ,” a waitress might say, eyeing them both as they share a bowl of ice cream between them.

“You guys look adorable together, are you a couple?” a boy would ask them and they would give him a rejection in the form of a firm “ _no_ ”.

Sometimes, a pair of two people would glide past them, pausing to look at Ema and Akira and the way they hold their hands across the table. The pair would look at the way they’d stare into each other’s eyes and then they’d look among themselves and would state what would seem to be the inevitable: “look at that, _darling_ , those two are in _love_.”

Ema wonders how delusional the world around her is. Love is a foreign concept in which two people snuggle and cuddle, teasing and bickering forever more and they are none of those things. Akira is her friend through and through and there’s nothing anyone else can say to make her see things different. She’s sure, honestly, that Akira feels the same way. His eyes light up whenever he sees her, a smile on his face when he greets her and the need for his head on her shoulder when school all but exhausts him. He’s her friend and she is his and that’s the way it should be: even if the world points out what might be the otherwise obvious.

Regardless, she swirls her spoon in her sundae, takes up a spoonful and sips from it. Cool liquid coats her tongue and she revels in the taste. The sweetness of it batters away the heat, its taste loving and kind, and she feels like she’s tasting the clouds of heaven.

Across from her, Akira is absent-mindedly sipping from his cream soda. His lips enclose over a straw and his gaze lands outside the little white picket fence they sit beside. His lavender stare contemplates his surroundings, his fingers tap nervously on the glass tabletop, and he seems to be lost in thought as he’s lost in his own secret musings. Occasionally, when he thinks Ema isn’t looking (she always is), he’ll turn his eyes to her and then divert them when she looks up from her sundae.

“What is it?” she asks when her initial amusement dies down and her patience runs thin.

Akira startles, jumping a mile wide out of his seat and his drink jittering in his hands. The act would be so hilarious if Ema wasn’t suspecting him of hiding something. She knew Akira. She knew his thought processes well enough and beating around the bush was _definitely_ _not_ one of them.

“I, uh,” Akira, caught in the act, rubs the back of his head, “I want to ask you something but it’s kind of…weird.”

She takes another spoonful of sundae into her mouth. “And? Go on, tell me. I won’t feel weird about anything you ask.”

His words feed him confidence and his shoulders relax from a tense posture Ema had previously neglected to see. “I want…to ask you to come home with me for winter break. To see my family again.”

The spoon almost slips from her hand and she admits nothing short of shocked. Her lips part just the slightest bit and she meets Akira’s eyes with distant astonishment. “You want me to what?”

He sighs and there’s just the slightest pinch of his eyebrows to express his discomfort. “It’s been like two years since my parents last saw you. Well, since my father last saw you but I’m sure my stepmother would be happy to finally know who this _mysterious_ and _beautiful_ Ema is.”

“You’re such a _tease_ ,” she reaches over to flick his nose. He gives her an offended look in return. “But, are you sure? Doesn’t you family have plans for the winter break?”

“No, does yours?”

She thinks of her parents working endlessly late in order to maintain a manageable lifestyle. Ema shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure I’m free to visit. It’s the same place right?”

“Of course,” the blue-haired boy gives her an uncertain smile and calls for a nearby waitress. “So, what about it. You want to come?”

“Perhaps…” The girl pretends to ponder over it and when she notices the way his face seems to turn red from embarrassment she moves from her seat to a chair next to his and lays her head down on his shoulder. She feels him tense under her and she sighs at his sudden fit of nervousness as a waitress comes to their side.

“Oh my,” the woman says, grinning at the both of them. “I take it you’re ready to pay. No, wait, here, take this. I don’t want to interrupt your little date any further.”

She hands Akira a leather book with a receipt tucked inside and then moves off to attend to another table. Ema peers at the object, huffing as her friend opens it up and begins to write up a check.

“That was an odd leap in conclusion,” the girl states.

“How so?”

Purple burns into her head and she merely closes her eyes and nestles closer. “She assumed we’re on a date. We’re _not_ on a date.”

“I thought we were.”

He says it with such seriousness that she perks her head up and raises an eyebrow. “We were?”

Akira’s forehead meets hers and Ema can’t help the ambiguous pink that dashes her cheeks. “Do you want to be?”

They stare at each other for quite some time.

“Perhaps,” she pulls away, “perhaps not.”

There’s the subtle imitation of a pout and she laughs. “You don’t have to be a tease about it, Akira. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He grabs her hands and squeezes them. “ _Friends_ ,” he stresses in agreement.

The way he says it makes Ema think he means something a little more.

~~~

Often times, Ema forgets how large Akira’s home is. It is the size of a _mansion_ and yet every time she comes to visit him she is lost in its grandeur yet again. A garden laden with fruit greets her at the entrance alongside a tall silver gate and two cars far too extravagant to touch. At the porch, where a silver swing adorned with green pillows sits, lies a woman Ema is unfamiliar to and a small child clutching onto her arm. The woman gets up from her seat, already aware of Ema’s presence, and the small kid – a little girl with brown-haired pigtails – reluctantly follows behind her, grasping onto the lady’s hands with one of her own and then tucking a teddy bear in the other.

“You must be Ema Bessho, am I correct?” the woman asks with quiet but firm words. A soft smile on her face invites Ema’s answer.

“I am. I assume your Akira’s stepmother?”

“You’d be correct,” she dips her head and then gestures to the girl beside her. “This is my child, Aoi Zaizen. Aoi, come on and say hello to your brother’s friend.”

The tiny child shakes her head and then ducks behind her mother’s legs. Akira gives a slight sigh and looks at Ema as if to say: “ _I’m sorry she’s a bit shy around strangers_ ”. The boy walks over, bending down to his knees and smiling at Aoi. “Come on out, she’s not scary, I promise you.”

Aoi looks at him as if he is a god and can do no wrong and there is such _faith_ in those amber eyes that Ema is almost shaken. It is as if the child _worships_ Akira, all shyness fizzling away in light of the way he holds out a hand to her and coaxes her out. There’s an instant bond between him and Aoi and Ema’s nearly left envious as she realizes just how much Akira cares for this little girl. His hands close gently over hers’, urging her out and at his side as he strolls up to Ema. It is almost as if Aoi is his child, not his sister, and he brings her up and into his arms, laughing as the girl giggles with glee.

“Say ‘hello’, Aoi,” the blue-haired boy tells the child, eyes soft and kind.

Suddenly, Aoi’s shyness returns and she presses herself against Akira, wary and uncertain. “H-Hello,” she says, grabbing at Akira’s shirt with her tiny fists and bunching it up in nervous agitation.

“Hello to you too, Aoi,” Ema puts on a smile and approaches the girl.

Aoi watches, uncertain but mesmerized as the older girl holds out a hand. Amber eyes slide over the surface of her skin, small lips pulled into a frown, but she reaches out regardless…and yanks down on a strand of Ema’s hair.

Ema winces at the sudden pain, jolting back in surprise. Akira’s stepmother is just as astonished as she is, immediately apologizing for her daughter’s actions. Akira himself puts the girl down, his gaze changing from kind to strict as he scolds her with careful words.

“Aoi, you can’t do that,” he tells the child and she pulls at her skirt, eyes watering as Akira’s gaze hardens. “Pulling someone’s hair could hurt them and it’s also very rude and disrespectful to Ema. She’s a guest here – you can’t treat her like that. I understand you didn’t mean anything cruel by it but I want you to apologize to Ema, okay?”

The girl wilts in front of her stepbrother and then peers at Ema. There is an unmistakable flash of something in Aoi’s eyes, something unrelenting and not at all apologetic. “I-I’m sorry,” she says, biting at her lip and flashing eyes that are a bit too shiny to Ema’s liking.

“It’s fine,” she tells Aoi, patting her on the head.

There’s a sudden change in the air and it is as if Aoi despises her touch, pulling away with just the slightest hint of curled lips. However, what ever loathing expression appears on the girl’s face is wiped clean as she faces her brother. She holds out her arms, wobbling, and Akira relents, picking her up and into his arms.

“Here, let’s go inside,” he says and leads her forward. He pauses in front of his stepmother. “Mind if I take Aoi with us?”

“As long as you don’t expose her to any _adult things_ that may happen in-between you two, I’m fine.”

There’s a light of warning in the woman’s eyes that sing of serious intent.

“We’re not anywhere close like that, mother,” Akira’s face turns red at the implication and Aoi looks up at him, the meaning passing way over her naïve little head.

“Trust me, we’re not,” Ema chips in. “We’re _friends_.”

“You could’ve fooled me, Akira talks a lot about you,” the woman says and then urges them on when Ema opens her mouth to protest. “Now, hurry along, I’m sure you don’t want me wasting all of your time with frivolous chatting.”

She nods and Akira leads her inside, escorting her and his sister into a room together. “Ah,” he pauses as he puts Aoi on the ground, “I need to go talk to my father about something. Mind if you watch Aoi for a second?”

The pink-haired girl takes a seat on a familiar purple bed and waves him on. “I’ll be fine, go on. I’ll wait here.”

“Alright, I’ll be quick!”

He disappears and the door closes behind him. Aoi sits on the floor, clutching at the teddy bear as she stares at Ema with evident distrust. Her tiny fingers dig into the skin of her animal, her chin resting on its head and her eyebrows furrowed into a grumpy stance.

Ema sighs at the glare she’s being given. “Do you hate me or something?”

To her surprise, the child nods.

“Why?

Aoi stands up and moves over to a picture frame, picking it up and showing it to her. In it was a picture of Akira and her on their first day of high school – a complementary photo taken by Akira’s former mother. They were both laughing, hands intertwined as the camera’s flash illuminated them against the morning darkness of an autumn garden.

She feels a bit embarrassed to see a memento of their past so obviously in Akira’s room and she almost wants to tuck it away. Akira held sentimental value towards events in his life and, while she did too, reliving some memories made her cringe with flaming cheeks and the sense to avert her eyes.

The child in front of her looks at the image and then at Ema. “I-It’s not fair,” she says, voice wobbling as amber eyes search her. “You’re so pretty.”

“I…uh… _thank you?_ ”

Aoi places the picture back “My brother loves you more,” the girl says, shoulders slumping and lips wobbling.

“More?”

“He always talks about you,” she replies, tucking her face into her teddy bear. “It’s always ‘Ema this, Ema that’. He loves you more than me and I don’t like that. I’m his _little sister_ why doesn’t he love me more?”

“Ah-” Ema’s voice catches on her surprise and she finds herself struggling for words in front of this uncertain child, “-I’m sure it’s not like that. From what I’ve seen, it looks like Akira loves you very much.”

“He always pays attention to you. He never shuts up about _you_ ,” she retorts, eyes flashing and then softening with self-loathing. “I can see why. You’re very beautiful and I can’t possibly compare with that. That’s why he likes you more over me.”

“We’re best friends, Aoi, we’ve been together for a long, _long_ time. Having that long of a relationship might do that but, even still, I think you’re taking things out of proportion. Akira loves you a lot. There’s a special bond between you two, I swear,” she pats the spot on the bed next to her and Aoi reluctantly sits beside her. “Trust me, I’ve never seen Akira act as sweet as what he did with you just then. He’s not the type to get all smooshy with kids.”

Aoi perks up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Akira’s never been fond of kids, honestly. He was polite and kind but he never wanted anything to do with them. Seeing him interact with you today makes me wonder about that a lot.”

There are stars in Aoi’s eyes and her frowning lips stretch into a grin. “Really, really?”

“Yep, Akira probably loves you as sister just as much as he loves me as a friend,” Ema places a hand on Aoi’s head to ruffle her hair and the girl settles comfortably under her touch. “Don’t worry, he’s a good person. He won’t abandon you.”

The girl hums in agreement. “He’s my brother and he’s your _lover_ ,” there’s a sly look at Ema and then she tilts her head high, “and he’s gonna love us forever.”

“Forever,” Ema whispers, ignoring the obvious jab in her direction. The word lifts off her tongue and into the air and she watches as it curls around her. Aoi repeats it and her word merges into reality, brushing against hers’ as they echo together:

“Forever.”

~~~~~

The next strain in their relationship is permanent. It happens before anyone would even know it was possible. Akira’s parents are killed in a car crash and everything that Ema might have hoped for goes up into a whirling fire of flames and smoke.

“I need to do something. I need to get a job that will support me and Aoi forever.”

Those are the first words he speaks as the funeral for his parent’s comes to a solemn end. She looks at him like he’s crazy and he is because he’s only _in their third year of high school and he wants a full-blown_ job _?_

Still, Akira does not go undeterred. He becomes more interested in the scholarships he’s been offered, putting more effort into his studies and ultimately moving on to college and leaving her behind. He knows nothing else but the books on his desk and the glasses on the brim of his nose as he sits beside a reading lamp in the middle of the night. He refuses to leave the house or his college, putting in hour after hour until he collapses again and again from exhaustion.

The words on his face are clear and Ema can’t erase them no matter how much she sees him. _Aoi, Aoi, Aoi, I must do this for Aoi_. There’s nothing else to think about but _Aoi_ and that’s all she can ever hear from him. If he doesn’t get a job then he can’t support _Aoi_. If he can’t earn a _living_ than how is _Aoi_ going to eat and live a normal life? How will he protect _Aoi_ from moving out onto the streets if he doesn’t _study_ and get himself a _well-paying job_?

Ema won’t deny it. She’s hurt and startled by the sudden change in his attitude. She bears no ill will towards Aoi because there is nothing to hold against her – they are both desperate and confused at Akira’s sudden change of attitude and, if Aoi’s phone calls to Ema are any indication, she’s hurting inside too. Akira’s on a path for redemption, putting anything and everything that doesn’t concern his getting a job as a low priority. He gives Ema the cold-shoulder more often than not, snapping at her when she suggests he take a break and overall ignoring her when she’s present. It gets to the point where he’s boiled the kettle for too long and, eventually, she steams out of the spout.

“ _Akira_ ,” she says, her patience drawn as a thin line in the sand when Akira tells her to ‘back off’ for the hundredth time during his studies, “I’m _done_.”

He pauses in the midst of his textbook, a pencil in hand. “Done with what?” he growls, black forming under his eyes and lips curled into what might be considered a sneer. “Done with annoying me, with barging into my room and trying to convince me that what I’m doing is _bad?_ Because, honestly Ema, I’m tired of _your_ shit too.”

The blue-haired boy rises from his bed and looks at her, eyes narrowed and nearly the perfect imitation of a panther ready to strike. “All this whining and complaining about me that you do is frankly _irritating._ You act all high and mighty, that you know all the answers to my problems and that you have the solution to my stresses but the truth is: you _don’t_ , Ema. You don’t know _anything_ about what I’m going through.”

“I know that I’m losing you,” she says in a whisper, defiant and standing tall and fighting against the fury and the pain that whirls around inside.

There’s a sudden hush in the room as Akira’s eyes bulge with anger. He tosses his text book to the side, climbing off his bed and coming face to face with her. “Go home, Ema,” Akira snarls, “and never come back. I don’t want to see you any more.”

She stares at him, eyes wide and mouth parted, but she does not hesitate to turn away and leave his room behind. From the corner of her eyes, she notices brown hair slip into another room, a white door slamming behind a little girl as she flees. If Ema weren’t so full of loathing, she might have bothered to talk to the girl who was breaking apart inside. However, as it was, she could care less. She needed an escape, a way to break free, a way to escape the massacre of a moment that had soiled her heart forever.

She’d do anything she could to leave him behind.

She’d leave him out of sight and out of mind. Yes, that was would she would do. If Akira was out of sight, if she didn’t remember him and didn’t remember her childhood than perhaps everything would remain alright.

Too bad Akira didn’t feel the same.

~~~

When Link VRAINS became popular and the entire world swarmed down upon the idea of _card games in virtual reality_ , Ema was one of the first to try its greatest potential: hacking.

Under the words of her teacher (Shoichi Kusanagi, a man she’d met up with just after high school and whom shared the same burning fire that raged in her heart) she became skilled in the craft. It wasn’t a hard thing to do, honestly, it only required patience and diligence and she had both already under her belt.

In time, she made a name for herself. Ghost Girl, the world would call her, a creeping and sinister nickname that would slither its way into the underbelly of the black market. It was the name that’d stuck with her since she’d made her haunting debut, tearing down a bigwig duelist from his podium with the use of her Altergeist monsters. It’d been what many had called “a real-life horror movie”. Her monsters had ripped her opponents limbs off, disintegrating them into little shards of data and then smearing them in their owner’s face.

There was something rather appealing about her monsters, about the way they slithered and hissed and terrified her opponents. They were creatures of the unknown, creatures born from fear and loathing and, to Ema’s amusement, they were the perfect embodiment of her helpless younger self. They were like children throwing tantrums, unhappy and frustrated, eager to shout and scream, and Ema wonders why she had bothered to once feel that way.

Numb.

That’s the best way to describe it. She’s numb and unable to feel the world around her. She has no pride, no meaning, she just merely _exists_ to serve as others want her to. She’s a mercenary by trade and therefore she’s to be used and abused as others want her to be. Dirtying her hands with blood for their greed gives her little qualms. She’s more than happy to tear everything apart, to watch as she terrorizes the poor souls who cross the path of her employer’s. Ema Bessho – Ghost Girl – is little more than a tool. She acts as she is hired – she does as her employer tells her to and no more and no less. The money that passes into her hands is little more than a set of paper figures that keep her alive and working. She owns no luxuries, seeks no wealth or prosperity. She doesn’t think of love or family, doesn’t think of the parents she’s left far behind her or of the aching heart her young self once loved. She doesn’t think of all about anything other than the fact that if she wants to live she must drown herself in work until all the sleepless nights and countless hours spent on a keyboard destroy her will to be anything _more_.

Her teacher frets over her and, sometimes she wonders if it’s because he sees her as family or because he sees her as a measure of insurance. Kusanagi was a pleasant man – friendly, kind, worked at a hotdog shop – but he was far beyond anything more than an ally. He was a loner much like herself and had only taken her because she had had no where else to go. He’d trained her in hacking, taking sympathy in her bitter heart and reflecting it with his own. He’d lost his brother, she knew, and all his hours spent rambling about codes and numbers to her felt more like he was talking to someone else than her herself. That problem had died down though, recently. He’d taken up an orphan into his hot-dog shack – one Yusaku Fujiki – who was curious and excitable but also burning with the same black fire that encompassed his guardian’s heart. They were one and the same, Ema believed, and the fact that they had each other made her want to protect the little innocence they had left between them.

One day, she hoped to share their fate with someone else. To know comfort and love, to feel at peace with the world and not an empty shell. Ema knows that day will never come, knows she’ll never be able to reach for the stars in the sky and smile again without regret and hurt and pain and misery to interfere.

She knows she’ll never become young again.

~~~

She sits at a park in the midst of Link VRAINS, her Ghost Girl avatar cloaked over her person as she waits. She checks the time and then looks around. Her client is five minutes past the time he is meant to arrive and, honestly, she’s getting antsy. Ema is not one for tardiness, always on-point and on-time because that’s what her clients expect of her. This client in particular, however, seems to want to keep her waiting.

From what she knows, the employer in question is someone rather big in the VRAINS world. He’s a hoity-toity bigshot, a man of prestigious power and yet somehow not corrupted by its influence. To some degree, Ema is interested in meeting this man. She’s heard that he’s well-respected by the public, a figure so swoon-worthy that the news eats out of the palm of his hand and the entire world bows before him.

Footsteps tread on concrete and even though she lives in a virtual world she can still pick up the taste of wind in her mouth, the glimpse of blue in her vision, and the shock and surprise she feels as a man manifests before her.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” the man states, voice calm and calculated. “You are Ghost Girl, correct?”

Akira Zaizen is taller and much leaner than when Ema had last seen him. His posture is regal, towering and bold and yet willing to consider her as an equal as he offers her a hand. There is no emotion to detect in his tone, no sincerity that does not border on artificially sweet or even a nervous sweat to accompany the sight of such a mysterious figure. There is only soul-less purple eyes and a firm business-man smile that greets her attention.

She takes his hand and decides to not alert her childhood friend (were they ever truly _friends?_ ) of her recognition.

“My name is Ghost Girl,” she nods. “Why have you contacted me?”

The man pauses, his gaze caught on her and seemingly mesmerized. He takes a moment to regain himself. “Right, yes. I have a job for you.”

“What kind of job?”

“Tracking down the origin point of a rogue virus.”

“How much you paying.”

“As much as you need. Within a reasonable amount, of course.”

She giggles at that. “You have no need to fear from me. I won’t cheat you.”

There’s an irritated look that crosses her face and she can read the exasperation that runs across it. “Can you do the job or not?”

“I can.”

“Will you accept it?”

She pretends to ponder it, strolling around him in a circle. His gaze follows her, eerily attached but calm and wondering. “I might.”

“And how can I convince you?”

There’s an edge of malice in her words. “Oh dear _Akira Zaizen,_ there’s nothing _you_ can do to convince _me_ of anything.”

He frowns. “You know my name?”

She laughs. The bitter irony of it all.

“Of course. I keep tabs on the most important people in case they ever need me. Like _you_ , for instance.”

“So will you agree?”

Ema presses her forehead against his, smirking as his eyebrows furrow in confusion and mild loathing.

“Yes.”

~~~

Love.

Friendship.

_Denial._

These are the things that described her youth with Akira. She reflects upon them, nurturing the ideas of something more and something beyond what her childhood self had seen.

Bitter coils of poison roil in her, threading up into her mouth and spilling out until her hands are drenched. She claws at such memories in aggravated disgust, nails tearing into the very images embedded into the fibers of her being. She’ll ruin it all, bring every last happy moment she has with him burning into the pyre of obsession. Ema’s done with it. Done with her feelings, done with her anger and sadness and the way her heart twists with hatred for the word _fate_ because it is _fate_ that has led her to this point.

She exists as nothing but a tool. Forever more, she is nothing but a tool. She can’t be Ema Bessho, can’t be the foolish little girl with her head in the clouds and her friend at her side. She can’t deny the way she wanted to wake up next to Akira every morning, to feel his breath on her skin and to grow up alongside the sister he adored. She can’t deny that she was oblivious, that she thought _friends_ was the replacement for _lovers_ and that she never saw what was way too obvious. Had she grown closer, had she done more, could she have salvaged the Akira she once knew? Could she have dug him up from the ashes and resurrected him like the phoenix of the ancient stories. Would he have alighted before her, awake and smiling, his parents at his side and Aoi at his as Akira called her name lovingly. Could they have ever been _happy?_

Once upon a time, she had thought it was all possible.

Now?

Now she was nothing more than an empty shell and he was nothing more than a walking husk soiled by his obsession for a living.

~~~

After her first job performance under Akira’s name, the man becomes impressed with her. He praises her skills as “phenomenal”, hauling away a rogue hacker as he compliments her hard work and talent in her field. He hands her a large sum of money (a bit too generous for her tastes) and then hauls away.

A week later, he calls again. Another job but a different mission – follow a group of shady duelists and report on their behavior. That mission ends with several arrests of drug dealers targeting children. Yet again, Akira commends her skills before giving her a large dose of money that calls into question his definition of “fair payment” .

However, again and again, he repeats the process, calling her up for this and that under the names of “favors”. Always, always, he wants something from her, placing the utmost trust of his company in her hands and clapping as she performs as she’s supposed to. In a way, it feels like she’s a showpiece to his entertainment, the “behind-the-scenes” worker who does all the action while he takes all the credit. She shrugs it off because it’s the nature of the job but there is something rather _personal_ about the way he treats her.

Despite using her like a tool, there’s a kind of trust in his words, a look of unexpected faith that manifests whenever she appears before him in the VRAINS. He is too gullible of her words, too entranced towards her appearance, and it is as if she is a toxin sinking into him. The head of SOL Technology does nothing but place his job in her hands, does nothing else but calls her up and expects her to heed his beck and call. She does, of course, because he’s a client and it’s to be expected, but at times it feels like Akira purposely seeks out her and only her to do what is best for his company.

At one point, he even asks to hire her permanently into his business, stating her as a beneficial factor. She declines because, of course, she doesn’t want to join the same hell that took him away from her in the first place. He offers a pay-check, offers anything – food, living space, the newest and latest in technology – but, ultimately, she refuses. Akira relents, knowing better than to push, but she can see the stars in his eyes and the way he wishes for her presence.

 _How attached have you gotten to me, Akira?_ She wants to ask him. Instead, she asks another question.

“How about we meet up in real life?”

~~~

At first, Akira doesn’t recognize her. Ema knows she’s grown and matured, that her hair has grown longer and that her chest is more than flat, but she’s disappointed at the way he doesn’t flop over and gape with familiarity. Instead, he has this nervous air to him hidden behind a polite and smiling mask as he holds out a hand.

Well, she’s about to shatter that mask to pieces.

“Ghost Girl, right?”

She laughs, grabbing his hand and clutching it hard enough to make him wince. “Nice to meet you in person. I’m Ema Bessho. Though, I trust you already know who _that_ is.”

Akira takes a step back, paling immensely as she smiles. All the blood drains from his face and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

Well, both a literal and metaphorical ghost.

“E-Ema…” he says.

“Ah, so you remember me! Good! Nice to see you _again_ , Akira Zaizen.”

“You’re…Ghost Girl!?”

She circles him. “Did you expect anything less?”

“I…but you’re the same?”

“Of course. I never expected to see you again though. Fate is quite _ironic_ , isn’t it?”

“It is,” there’s a sudden blanket of composure that wraps around him. He watches her with his chin tilted up.

“How’s it been? Oh wait, I already know. You’ve told me already. You’re lifelong dream is finally come crashing down upon you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do you want, Ema?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs and pauses in front of him. “Nothing from _you_ anyways. Let’s just say I’ve been waiting to reveal myself to you for quite some time. How does it feel to know that your favorite person for hire is also the one you’ve left in the dust some time ago?”

“We’re not going over this.”

“We’re not?” Ema prowls forward, leering. “And why can’t we? Why can’t we go over the mistakes _you_ made all those years ago?”

“Because the past is in the past. We’re not friends anymore, we both know that. So let’s start over as the head of SOL’s security and as Ghost Girl.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“That’s…fair enough.” He struggles with the words, fidgeting as if he doesn’t believe them. “I won’t stop you.”

The woman shakes her head. “No, I’ll keep working for you,” there’s a surprised look on his face and she elaborates, “but not just because of the money. I’ll work with you because I want to.”

“You…want to?”

She taps her fingers on a wall. “We’ll do as you suggest – we’ll restart and begin anew. We’ll pretend all is well, that we didn’t hurt each other and that we didn’t know each other. It’ll be fun, kind of like how it used to be, right?”

“Right.”

She closes her eyes and breathes in.

“Yes, a fresh new start.”

~~~

True to her words, they start anew. They put aside their past, their memories, and she works for him just as she would work for any other client. There is no mention of ice cream parlors or park-side duels or even of little sister’s who yank their guest’s hair. There is only business and transactions, too large sums of cash passed into her hands and then the lingering tension left unsaid as they meet up and walk away.

It’s painful and it hurts but it’s the best way for them to deal with the situation. They tiptoe around their issues because, of course, there is no way to confront them. As it is, a new slate is the best option to rekindle anything they ever had between them.

One day, however, he says four words that get to her. Four words that burn at her soul and reignite the agony that has forever been lurking in her heart.

“You’re my closest ally, Ema.”

He says it as she’s bleeding on the floor, a stab wound infiltrating through her side and a knife on the floor. She’d been assigned after a runaway robber who made his living hacking and stealing from other player’s accounts in the VRAINS. She’d cornered him, called up Akira and responded with the notion of back-up being sent her way, and she was certain she’d have caught the man before Akira would’ve if not for the knife that’d been plunged in her side. She’d coughed up blood, the injury fresh and painfully agonizing, and yet Akira had dove to her side, a phone in hand and a plea on his lips as the sound of distant sirens filter their way.

“Don’t die on me,” he tells her, “I still need you!”

She would have laughed at such a statement. Of course he still needed her. She was important to his job, to his business, to his _livelihood._ Without her, he’d need a substitute just as good. Finding such a replacement would definitely be hard on him, what with the trust factor and what not.

Akira curls his hand over hers’ as one of his men presses a bandage down on her wound. He seems distraught, shaking and trembling, and she looks up at him with glazed eyes and a distant throbbing in her body.

“You’re my closest ally, Ema,” he whispers.

Ten thousand knives sharper than the pain she already feels dig into her. Akira says the words with such sincerity that Ema closes her eyes for the briefest of moments and tries to believe them.

“Am I?” she wants to ask. “Am I really?” She wants to stroke his cheek, to squeeze his hand and ask him again and again if he’s sure of such a statement. Instead, she lets his purple eyes scan over her with restless fatigue and worry, giggling in a mixture of disgust and amusement.

In-between the lines of his face he can read her name chanted over and over again. _Ema, Ema, Ema!_ His gaze calls out and, in her memories, she can hear him repeating the same chant with a different name. _Aoi, Aoi, Aoi…!_

It’s all he could ever think, could ever consider. He had cared for his sister so much after his parent’s death that he’d led his sister into a state of depression and emotional distress. Ema had seen little Aoi Zaizen before, had kept tabs with her back when she got curious about whatever happened to the little girl of her childhood friend. Aoi had grown up sheltered and alone, isolated from her classmates and with the skittish tendency to avoid all others in life.

Ema wonders how Akira can chant a name with such reverent prayer and yet neglect the basic people he has sworn he cares for. Sometimes, she wonders what would have happened had she stayed by his side instead of breaking the ice all those years ago. Would she have ended up like Aoi Zaizen, alone and neglected, left to the burdens of her mind and the absence of someone once so important? Almost certainly, Ema believes, she would have ended up unhappy.

Akira’s eyes swell with tears and her aching heart protests such a notion. He tucks his head into the crook of her neck as she bleeds out, murmuring sweet nothings to her. His arms wrap around her body and he has to be forcibly pried away from her in order for the medical workers to be able to carry her into an ambulance.

Her emotions ramble alongside his. Her heart squeezes at the desperation in his face, it cries out as he tries to reach her side, tries to seat himself behind her in the ambulance only to be shrugged off. Her feelings trample over her, protesting and whining as she thinks they are most certainly wrong.

Ema can never return. It’s evident in the isolation they provide each other, the way they distance themselves and pretend that everything is alright and okay. But, it will _never_ be okay. They will _never_ be able to fix what they broke and, while Ema knows this deep down in her heart, she also knows it’s the very truth of her existence.

Forever, she will be alone. She can’t escape, can’t return to the time where she could hold his hand and lean on his shoulder and smile and laugh and be blissfully innocent.

The ambulance wheels her away and, when she returns, it as if nothing has happened. It is not as if he has cried over her bleeding body or as if she had wished to wipe away his steaming tears. They work as always, side-by-side but forever apart.

Never to become friends again.

~~~

-ultimately, she’s left with a bitter taste in her mouth.

Ema hugs herself against the cold, tucking her head away from the light of the streetlamp. The darkness of a coming storm sweeps over her and she looks up with a smile, snow crunching under leather boots.

“How time changes,” she muses, reaching up for a snowflake that falls in-between her fingers. She pauses and looks behind her to where gold paints white. “Can we ever go back, Akira?”

Black overrides her and her breath billows up and into the air. Even the moon refuses to touch her, clouds blocking the only light left in her world. She shivers, claws of ice raking down her spine, and then she disappears into the void of the night.

Gone.

Vanished.

Just the ghost she is.

Forever left to haunt the past.

“It was just never meant to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I actually started this Wedsnesday and wrote half of this today (Tuesday, about one week later). I don't know why I do this to myself but I am DETERMINED to meet my weekly goals even if I get stuck for like 99% of the time I'm supposed to be working on it and spend half of my time online and on Discord :/
> 
> Also, originally, Kusanagi was gonna play a big role but no matter what I wrote I got bored w/ forcing him to reunite with Ema and work with her so I just kind of...made both of them forget about each other and eventually reunite in the BG. Shhhh, there are no loop holes here.
> 
> Denial is 100% Ema's thing and even though she's well aware that she and Akira are probably past the 'friend' level she still likes to think of him as otherwise (denial runs thick in her veins and thus the reason for the unreliable narrator tag). Akira's feelings are obvious but he's just as bad as her, agreeing with her "friendship" nonsense. Honestly, none of them probably know what the word "friendship" actually means.
> 
> I also have a penchant for making character's suffer so this is my obligatory Ema-and-Akira(and Aoi bc I can't avoid her in my fanfics period :p)-get-to suffer-fanfic.


End file.
